


Baby We've Got This

by tjueen



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Set After 10.10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9302348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjueen/pseuds/tjueen
Summary: There is a fact buried deep in Even’s ribcage. He knows it with utter certainty. It was fated from the moment they met.Isak has this belief in things working out. He's young; he's new to it all.But there is something Even knows, that no amount of CBT or thought-challenging can erase. He can hear it coming in the heartbeat of every moment, like a drumroll. He wants it to hurry up and happen, he wants it to be over with.Isak is going to leave him.–––NB: This fic is unfinished and I don't know if I will ever get around to finishing it – read at your own risk!





	1. Prologue

_Lørdag, 4.2.2017,_ _11.54_

‘You can't just say,’ Isak tells him, wide-eyed, 'that aliens _aren't_ real.'

He hoists himself up onto Even's kitchen counter, cradling his bowl of Coco Pops in the nook of his elbow. When Isak had lived here, in January, he’d got it down to such an art that he never spilled a drop of milk. Even knew he should be discouraging him from such _reckless, unhygenic_ behaviour, being the Mature Elder and all. And then Kaja, the most uptight of his flatmates, had caught Isak up there once, and the fallout had been spectacular.

'You remember what chairs are, yeah?' he'd say sometimes, after the Kaja Incident, but he didn't put any real feeling into it. Isak always looked so cute sitting up on the bench. 

And then, he wasn’t sitting there any more, and Even didn’t know if he’d ever be there again, and so the hygiene standards in the kitchen were perfect again.

And now, two weeks later, Isak's back, running his mouth off about alien life forms, his bare legs swinging and banging softly against the drawers. It's like he never left.

'Why’s it so bad to say they’re not real?’ says Even. ‘Do you think they’ve bugged us?’

Isak’s foot slides into the handle of the cutlery drawer, tugs it open, then pushes it closed again. He's wearing Even's woolen socks, and Even's _Twin Peaks_ t-shirt. It's sitting half-way down his thighs. His eyes are a little red from the joint. Even threads their fingers together and plucks the joint out of his hands.

'Yeah, maybe,’ he says. ‘And tonight they'll come down and, like...'

 _'Probe_ me?'

'Yeah.' Isak giggles. 'Watch out.'

Even inhales deeply, feeling the weed throb through his system, the fuzzy sweetness diffusing through him. A small part of him’s regretting it already. But somehow, in some sick part of his mind, he wants to test Isak. To see if he’ll really keep his promise. He raises his eyes to see that Isak’s carefully looking away, saying nothing.

It should feel like a triumph. So why does knowing he can do whatever he wants feel so... empty?

'I'd enjoy it, I think,’ says Even eventually. ‘Being probed.’

'Not the way they do it,’ says Isak earnestly, fumbling at Even’s fingers to get his next hit. ‘It's really... slimy.'

'Slimy?'

'Yeah. _So_ much slime. Just… coming out of everywhere.'

'Oh, good. I'm into that.'

'Yeah?’ Isak awkwardly takes a spoonful of cereal with his left hand. ‘Should I dribble on you more when we make out?'

'All right.' Even pushes himself between Isak's legs and kisses him. Isak gives a little surprised sound. He tastes like chocolate and milk.

'That wasn't much dribble at all,' Even says, reclaiming the joint. It’s almost burned out now. He’ll let Isak have the last of it.

'I wasn't prepared,' says Isak. 'I’ll store some up for you next time.’

'Eugh. You’re gross.’

‘You love me, though.’

‘Yes,’ says Even honestly.

Isak looks at the floor. ‘Love you, too,’ he says, and then looks up, eyes dark and big. The intensity sparks a sudden, unexpected ache in Even’s chest, and he has to look away. He goes to put the kettle on so Isak doesn’t notice anything.

But he doesn’t want to think about things lasting or not lasting, what the future will look like. Let them just have this. The moment.

Isak’s been fervently keeping his half of the promises they both made a few nights ago. Even can still remember Isak's face that night, fragile and exhausted in the flickering lamplight. And Even’s been keeping his own promise. They’re both trying to be better.

‘How do you know so much about probing, anyway? Are _you_ an alien?' Even says, crossing the room and settling in between Isak's legs.

'Yeah. This is a disguise. My true form is a giant purple slug–'

Even cuts him off with a deep kiss. Isak makes a strangled, happy sound. They kiss for a long time, soft and slow, and then Isak draws away, eyes unfocused like Even knew they would be. Even wraps his arms around him.

‘Where are you?' Isak asks, voice muffled against his chest.

With Sonja, Even did gestures: 'thumbs up' or 'thumbs down' – which Even never really liked as a system. Hypomanic doesn't really equal 'thumbs up' in Even's book.

With Isak, it's been a new system – one he’s apparently picked up from Magnus and his mum. It feels like Even's trying to map out his mind so that Isak can explore it. That's hard in a different way. Today, he's too tired to try to explain exactly how he's feeling, so he just says,

‘Fine. Don’t worry.’

Isak's eyes darken as he searches Even's face for the truth, so Even kisses him again before he can start worrying.

It’s more or less true. He's been – relatively stable, since they called off their short-lived break. Isak’s constant presence and touching always keep him anchored when he's feeling less than great; when he feels like he doesn't deserve anyone as good and beautiful as Isak in bed with him; when he can’t stand the fact that he’s dragged this helplessly big-hearted teenager into his mess.

Isak gets pissy when he implies anything like that, like Isak would have been better off without him. So he’s stopped saying it aloud.

They’re not saying a lot of things, lately. They’ve been using their bodies to say the things words can’t. This morning, they’ve been up for nearly two hours and spent the better part of them kissing. It’s good; it’s what they both need. Even could kiss Isak for weeks and not have tasted him enough.

But now the kettle dings, so he breaks away and goes to make himself another instant coffee. If Isak has any thoughts about that, he doesn’t voice them, just hops off the counter and gets some more Coco Pops.

There’s a lot less easy conversation, just now, a lot more careful steps. In the back of their minds, he knows they’re both afraid of things going wrong again, like they did that night, the night he doesn't like to remember. The night everything seemed to be crashing around them, like glasses off a tilting shelf.

But then, they fixed it. They put it right. Ever since then, things have been really good. And they’re going to keep it that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, you guys, thank you so much for your amazing response! Super overwhelmed.
> 
> So, here is the first chapter, in which we go back to December like Taylor Swift wanted us to. It's way too long for a chapter in which almost nothing happens, but angst is coming (sorry). Hoping to update daily from now on.
> 
> Thanks again and I hope you enjoy <3

_ Lørdag, 17.12.2016, 16:43  _

Even’s fingers fumble on the gate latch. It's seized up with cold. Beside him, Isak’s shifting from side to side, trying to keep warm. There’s not much of him visible besides his lowered eyes and pink nose: a scarf covers his lower face, and his beanie’s pulled down close to his eyes.

'Are you nervous?' Even says.

'No,' Isak says, and just from the tiny visible part of his face, Even can tell he’s scowling.

'That's so cute,' Even says, leaning over to kiss him, aiming for the bridge of his nose and getting his eyelid instead. ‘You don't need to be nervous.'

'I'm not nervous, for fuck's sake. I'm just cold. Hurry.’

Even isn’t too nervous. Not for this. He’s having a mental ‘thumbs-up’ day, a shaky, uncertain thumbs-up, but a thumbs-up nonetheless. It’s been helped along by an incredibly dry night last night (Isak hovered like a hawk – but a cute hawk) and his week of scheduled ‘fun’ with various of Isak’s flatmates. Apparently they’ve made a goddamn 'Even roster.' It’s a little patronising, but he can’t deny how sweet they're all being, Isak most of all.

Isak’s now bouncing on the balls of his toes and rubbing his arms. Even can tell he's nervous; he's been jittery and restless the whole way over here. He doesn’t need to be, though. The kid doesn’t realise just how charming he is, which can only be a good thing.

The gate swings open and they walk up to stand on the front step, holding hands, and Even looks at Isak one last time, just to check.

‘Go on,’ says Isak. So Even presses the doorbell.

He looks around him as they wait. His parents’ home always seems a little smaller, each time Even comes back. Once the path up to the house felt so long to walk, and they’ve covered it in a few strides. He can make out his mum's decorations hanging in the hall: golden stars and red tinsel.

He’s home. He’s holding Isak’s hand. For a second, all his problems seem to recede. For a second, he feels safe.

The door swings open and his tiny, beautiful, dark-haired mother is standing there, in massive yellow washing-up gloves, beaming up at them so hard it must surely be hurting her face.

She attacks Isak first, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, then drawing back to look up at him.

‘Oh, aren’t you handsome? You're _so_ like the pictures Even sent!’

Isak stiffens, looks down, and mumbles a thank you.

'So _tall,_ ' his mother goes on, looking him up and down. 'And these blond curls! Well, you two could model together, couldn't you! You could become Norway's next power couple.'

Even clears his throat. ‘Uh, Mum, are we allowed inside at any point? Or do you want to do a photoshoot first? It could be hypothermia-themed.’

'Oh, I'm sorry, me and my big mouth!’ she says, stepping back and waving them indoors, then leading them down the hall to the lounge. ‘Just ignore me, Isak, sweetheart, I tend to burble, Even's used to it, he just tunes it out. Now, you must tell me what kind of meal you'd like tonight! I'm just off to the supermarket, so I'll get the ingredients and make your favourite. What will it be?'

'Oh… that's okay. I don’t mind.' Isak sits on the couch, still avoiding her eyes, looking down. Even’s surprised. He sits down next to him, close enough that they’re touching, and gently nudges him.

'You don't have to be polite. It will literally make Mum’s day to cook you your favourite meal. She’s been looking forward to this for ages.'

Isak gives a reluctant half-smile. 'Uh...okay. Um... _kjøttkaker_?'

'Oh, lovely, I make delicious _kjøttkaker_ , don't I, Even? All right, I'll let you take Isak on the official house tour, Even, and I'll pop out to the shops. Dad should be home soon.'

They wait quietly until they hear the door jingle closed.

'Hey,' he says, reaching out to tuck back a loose curl from Isak’s forehead. 'What's up?'

'Nothing. I'm fine.'

Isak’s not meeting his eyes. He seems – was this a stupid mistake, bringing him over this early? Even can feel his heartbeat thrumming, picking up pace. _Stop being so fucking insecure,_ he tells himself. _He doesn’t need to deal with your shit right now._

'Is it – was this a bad idea?' He tries to say it lightly.

'No,' Isak says quickly.

He moves closer, rubs his nose to Even’s cheek in reassurance. Even turns and finds Isak’s mouth, tries to kiss both of them calm.

‘Hey,’ Isak says suddenly. ‘Can I see your room?'

'Sure.' 

Even’s bedroom is smaller than he remembers, too. Isak’s intrigued by everything: examining his _Pulp Fiction_  and Velvet Underground posters; picking up the little toy robot on the windowsill and winding it up, then smirking when it toddles straight into the glass; finally, sitting cross-legged in front of the bookshelf to examine the spines. It's a collection that spans from when Even first began spelling words, through to his angsty teens. Isak runs a hand slowly over the books, then settles on one, pulls it out and waves it at Even. It's E. M. Forster's  _Maurice._

‘Have you read it?’ Even asks.

‘Nah, but I saw the movie. There were naked dudes, right?'

Even rolls his eyes. ‘An incredibly beautiful love story too, but you’re right. The naked dudes made it.’

Isak grins innocently. 'Nah, I think I remember other stuff. The main guy likes Hugh Grant, right?’

‘Maurice loves Durham, yeah.’ Isak studies the blurb on the back. ‘Hey, borrow it if you want. I think you’d love it.’

‘Does it have a happy ending?’ Isak says, anxiously.

‘Yeah,’ says Even, smiling, and Isak looks relieved, nods and carefully slides the book into the front pocket of his hoodie. Then he sits on the edge of Even’s bed, way too small for Even now – half his legs hang off the end if he lies down – and runs his hand over the afghan quilt.

'Did your mum make you this?’

Even nods.

‘My mum made me one, too.'

‘Yeah?’

Isak almost never mentions his mother, and Even waits for him to go on. But Isak just nods, his fingers curling through the holes in the quilt, and falls silent. Even sits beside him, gently tilts his chin towards him, and kisses him. Isak deepens the kiss, and after a while climbs into Even’s lap.

It should feel weird, kissing Isak in his childhood bedroom, but it doesn’t. Even kisses slowly down Isak’s neck, then buries his nose in his hair and breathes in. 

'Hallo!' It's his dad, at the door. The door swings open before they get a chance to respond, and Isak leaps up off his lap, his face scarlet.

‘Ooh!’ says his dad, equally red-faced. They all stare at one another, shellshocked, then his dad raises a finger in the air, goes, 'Aha! Forgot my keys,' and scarpers.

Even lies back on the bed, shaking with silent laughter, but when he looks up, Isak’s face is stricken.

'Hey,' says Even, and nudges him. ‘It doesn’t matter! Dad’s chill.’

The door jingles open downstairs. ‘Boys! I need help peeling the potatoes!’ they hear his mum call. Even walks to the door and holds it open for Isak. Isak hesitates.

'It’ll be fine,' says Even, ‘they’re gonna love you, I promise. Don’t freak out on me, now.’

‘I’m _not_ freaking out,’ Isak retorts, and stands up instantly. Even has to hide a smile. Isak's such a sucker for reverse pyschology. It's almost too easy.

The meatballs his mum makes are lovely: richly flavoured with cumin and cinnamon. But Isak pushes them around his plate for a while and eats slowly. He's super quiet through the first half of dinner. Even puts his hand on the tensed small of his boyfriend’s back and keeps it there.

His mum and dad, although they don't have any idea about Isak's home life, seem to have picked up that he's not totally at ease. They are addressing this problem by rambling even more than they usually do.

His mum talks about about her students for a while: ‘Now, the other day they made me up a Tumble account! You don't know Tumble? Oh, it's very hip,' she says smugly. 'You kids should really get with the times.'

Then his dad starts rambling about his own work, which is never... scintillating conversation. His dad works at a company that sells book tokens. He actually starts explaining Isak about how the the stamping and packaging process works. Even coughs several times to get him to shut up, but to no avail. But miraculously, Isak starts relaxing slightly, smiling and laughing at his dad’s stupid jokes.

After Even and Isak have washed up, Even’s dad asks Isak if he wants to come and look at his new projector.

‘I’m in love with the thing, Isak. I’ve already shown it to all my family members several times, so I’m thrilled to have someone new to show it to.’

Even’s about to step in and suggest they do something less... mind-numbingly dull, but Isak’s perked up. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘that sounds fun,’ and his dad doesn’t waste any more time. ‘Come with me!’ he announces, and practically drags Isak into his study.

Mum’s in the kitchen, scrubbing away at the baking tray he and Isak left to soak. She turns to him and wraps him tightly in a hug, her gloves dripping warm, soapy water down his neck.

‘Oi! You’re _soaping_ me.’

‘I _love_ him, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Oh, I’m so happy for you.’

‘He’s a bit – a bit shy, at the moment, he’s usually more –’

‘No. He’s lovely.'

Even cocks a skeptical eyebrow. ‘You’ve hardly talked to him.’

‘It doesn’t matter, I can just tell.’

Even crosses his arms. ‘So you strongly dislike Sonja from the moment I bring her home, but you’re instantly Isak's biggest fan?’

‘Call it maternal intuition. You know I always found Sonja… too cold, somehow.’

He twists his mouth. He always felt his mother was unfair on Sonja. She just never showed emotions easily, that was all.

But it’s true that Isak is undeniably warm. Sometimes, he felt like he couldn’t reach the true Sonja, like she was keeping part of herself hidden most of the time. Isak’s the opposite. An open book.

‘I’m not an open book,’ Isak says indignantly, in response to this, on the tram home. He’s been kind of quiet the whole way, leaning against the window, his breath fogging a little halo on the glass. It’s making Even’s mind race to irrational anxieties.

He’d thought they had a nice evening, if embarrassing on his part – they ended up all sitting around the projector while his parents put on home video after home video, and there was one particularly long clip of Even as a toddler, wandering around naked, trying to kiss their cat on the tail. It'd been worth it to see Isak’s reaction. He cracked up so hard there were tears on his cheeks by the time he recovered.

‘Uh, you’re the most open book I've literally ever seen,’ Even says, teasingly. ‘Honestly, I don’t understand how your lies have ever convinced anyone for a second.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ says Isak, instantly electrified, sitting up in his seat. ‘I’m unreadable as fuck. You ask anyone–’

‘Maybe your friends just pretended to believe you. Because you’re such a bad liar they felt sorry for you.’

Isak rolls his eyes. ‘That’s not true,’ he mumbles. ‘I’m a really good liar.’

It is worrying, though, Even thinks. Isak’s vulnerability. He oughtn’t to trust people with so much of himself, the way he did with Even. He’s only going to get hurt. When they break up, Even’s going to tell Isak he needs to be more guarded, more cynical about people’s motives.

But he’s glad he met him before he got cynical and guarded.

Right now, for example, in the tram, Isak’s obviously upset about something, but trying to hide it. He’s distracted, spacing out, responding to Even’s comments with slight delays.

'Hey. You okay?' he says lightly.

Isak shrugs and nods. Even reaches out to lightly rub the base of his neck.

'What's the matter?’

'Your family's not like mine,' he says, sounding almost angry.

Even remembers his mum’s babbling, his dad’s geeky enthusiasm for the projector, rambling on and on, showing Isak all the special features. He remembers how Sonja used to get impatient with them, sometimes.

'Were they too–’

‘In my family,’ Isak interrupts, ‘we don’t really laugh, or joke, or… so. Sorry if I was weird.’

'You know they loved you, right?' says Even. ‘They’ve never shown those home videos to anyone outside our family.'

Isak nods. His jaw clenches, and he looks back out the window.

‘What did you think of them?’ Even persists, feeling his anxiety draw back in, like a dark shroud.

Isak’s quiet for a while. Then, almost too quietly to hear, he says, ‘I loved them too.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kjøttkaker – Norwegian meatballs


	3. Chapter 3

_Torsdag, 22.12.2016, 10:35_

Even flips the first (slightly deformed) chocolate-chip pancake onto Isak’s plate, then slides it across the bench to where Isak’s sitting, cross-legged, by the sink. The rim of the plate thwacks into Isak’s thigh, and he stares at it, uncomprehending, for several seconds. He just got up, and he’s still a bit sleep-dazed. Finally, after some time, he seems to remembers what a plate is. He picks it up, rests it in his lap, then proceeds to squeeze chocolate sauce all over Even’s masterpiece.

‘Oi! A lot of hard work went into that pancake.’

‘I know,’ says Isak, continuing to squeeze sauce, which has covered the pancake and is now pooling to the edges of the plate. ‘It’s tired. It deserves a chocolate bath.’

'I think that’s more of a violent drowning.’

Even had felt unexpectedly okay when he woke up this morning, despite opening his eyes to find Isak’s knee filling his vision. Isak had managed to turn himself upside down in bed last night, with one arm still flung protectively over his laptop – they’d been watching _Hot Rod_.

So, Even took advantage of his good mood to make Isak a nice breakfast. He hasn’t been able to do much for him lately. Since he hasn’t really wanted to get out of bed much, they’ve spent a lot of time lying around in one or other of their apartments. He wishes Isak didn't have to see him like this, so early on, but then again, not much could beat what happened that night at the hotel.

Sometimes, lately… Even’s been bad. It’s always like this after the mania. It’s like he’s plunged deep down into the ocean, down and down to the cold dark, with no clue which way is up. And the weight of all the water above him is so heavy that he can only lie there, as his thoughts spiral down and down into deeper black. And sometime’s it’s so hard to find any distant light, to swim back up towards who he is. And Isak will lie down beside him, his gaze a distant, warm light, so far away from him. And Even will try to move towards him, to cross these miles of darkness stretching between.

He always comes back to himself eventually. During the down times Isak makes sure Even remembers to brush his teeth, and he’ll take Even outside and sit in the garden to get Vitamin D. Even tries to ignore the sick feeling of guilt he gets sometimes. Sonja was always clinical about taking care of him, like it was a job, which made things easier. But Isak’s somehow always just himself, gentle and caring, and for some reason that makes Even feel worse sometimes.

The best part of Isak looking after him is showering. Even gets to run his hands over Isak’s smooth, wet skin, to hug him close and feel the falling water surround them, a warm shell. Sometimes, Isak will drop to his knees (recklessly, kneecaps banging on the tiles, giving him bruises). Afterwards, Isak will grin cheekily up at him, squinting through the falling water. But other times they just quietly move together, wash one another’s hair, hold each other, Isak's head dropping quietly onto his own shoulder.

They’ve also been watching a shit-ton of movies since the holidays began. Isak’s been nagging Even to show him all his favourite films. Even keeps explaining what a terrible idea this is: Isak’s decently popular right now. But with every _Rent_ lyric he learns, his reputation becomes more precarious.

‘But I should learn about good cinema,’ said Isak, when Even said this to him. ‘I want to know what the good films are.’

‘Who says my favourites are the good ones?’

‘Well, we both know you have amazing taste,’ Isak said, gesturing to himself as explanation.

Even looked him up and down. ‘Mm, debatable,’ he said, making Isak shove him. Even kissed him in retaliation.

‘I want to watch all your favourites too, though.’

Isak flushed. ‘Nah. Nah, I don’t… I don’t know anything about movies. I just like stupid shit.’

‘So? Let’s watch some stupid shit.’

So they’ve been alternating. They watch one high-brow film chosen by Even, then something fun chosen by Isak. 

‘It’s okay if you think it’s dumb,’ Isak said last night, anxiously darting a look at Even, before he pressed play on _Hot Rod._

But when Rod fucked up the pool jump Even laughed so hard he bent over double. He looked up and saw Isak was smiling over at him, gone faintly pink.

They’ve watched so many films in the past few days that reality seems to have withdrawn to a distant dream, shut out by his bedroom curtains. But tomorrow they both have to go back out there, to be with their families for Jul.

He can tell Isak’s not entirely looking forward to Christmas. Even’s not totally thrilled either, even though it’s just three days. It’ll be nice spending time with his parents. But he wishes Isak could be there with him. Wishes he could wake up with him on Christmas morning. _It’s just three days, toughen the fuck up,_ he tells himself.

Thinking of that, of how today’s their last day, he has an idea. He turns to Isak – who is trying to take a chocolate-dripping mouthful of pancake without getting sauce all over his face, and having no success.

‘How about we pull an all-nighter and marathon a bunch of films tonight?’ he says. ‘Our own Christmas celebration.’

He thinks Isak’s going to be excited, but Isak twists his mouth. 

‘Do you think that’s… that’s a good idea for you at the moment?’ Isak says. ‘Staying up all night?’

And, just for a second, Even wants to snap.

 _What are you thinking?_  he tells himself angrily. _H_ _e’s only worried about you._

‘I don’t think it would be that big a deal,’ he says, trying to keep his voice light.

Isak’s brow furrows, and his hand darts towards his phone.

‘Don't,’ Even says, unable to help himself. ‘You don’t need to check Google for everything about me, Isak.’

Isak’s jaw tenses, hand closing around the phone anyway. He looks defensive, nervous, and stern all at once. ‘I don’t want–’

‘I know myself better than the Internet does. Just... chill out.’

Isak bites his lip, but eventually moves his hand away. ‘Okay,’ he says, almost inaudibly. He fiddles the fork around in his hand, then sets it down.

Even instantly regrets snapping. Isak’s totally easy-going apart from when it comes to this kind of stuff, but it grates at him, this – this carefulness. He knows Isak's been doing a lot of research online. He's even brought a couple psychology books home from the library. He's trying so hard.

And now, Isak knows all the things that bipolar people aren't supposed to have. Even knows drugs of all kinds, even the lightest ones, fuck him up. Every time he reaches for a beer, he knows he’s going to regret it. He knows exactly what a bad idea it is.

But sometimes he just wants to do it anyway.

Sonja knew him and his weaknesses inside out, and was so strict sometimes it made him want to get totally wasted just to piss her off. Isak's not strict, he's just... worried. Isak's stopped smoking now, too, even though Even tells him he doesn’t care if he does. He’s also kind of weird about Even’s drinking. At the _kosegruppa_ party, Even remembers how Isak tentatively rested a hand on his forearm as he reached for his third beer. 

Sometimes Even's mind comes up with really stupid thoughts. If they’re really persistent, he writes them down in a notebook and then writes all the reasons they’re flawed, like his psychologist once taught him to.

The morning after the party, he wrote: _Isak isn’t Sonja._ Then he wrote, _My anxiety about the future isn’t a prediction._ And, finally, he wrote: _I’m not ruining him. He chose to be with me. He’s choosing – he can leave whenever he wants._

He felt like that last one wasn’t following the proper CBT method, so he gave up.

After breakfast, Even's doing the dishes (he hasn't been doing those enough either) when Isak comes up behind him, wraps his arms around his waist and says he's sorry, and that he's keen for the movie marathon. They set everything up in the late afternoon. They're just choosing films when Even's mum calls.

She's called, again, with the sole aim of waxing lyrical about Isak. Who, as it turns out, slipped secretly around to their place drop them off a Christmas present. This has made his mum’s whole week.

‘He talked a bit more than last time. He’s so _smart!_ I was chatting to him about the weather lately, and he casually started talking about the “low-pressure system” that was moving over Norway.'

‘All right, Mum, you’re a fan, I get it,’ says Even, grinning across the room at Isak, who raises his eyebrows. _She’s talking about you again,_ he mouths, and Isak gives a smug grin.

But then he says, ‘Does she really like me?’ disbelievingly, once Even’s hung up.

‘She’s printing out adoption papers as we speak,’ Even says.

It’s actually not totally far from the truth. Since discovering a few details about Isak’s home situation, his mum’s practically decided she wants Isak as a second son. She's been pressing Even to ask Isak over for Christmas. But Isak’s been pretty firm on that account, even though Even can tell he's secretly dreading going home.

‘It’s really important to my mum that I’m there on Christmas Day,’ Isak said quietly. ‘And I – I’m trying to be better with her. Trying to understand.’

Even’s chest twinges slightly. He wants to meet Isak’s mum, one day.

'You can call me anytime, if it sucks,' he says. 'And don't forget my mum always makes enough food for six extra people, so the invitation still stands.'

Isak’s going out for kebabs with his gang tonight; he invites Even to come, but Even elects to nap and promises Isak he'll eat some leftovers. He’s dozing on the couch while Isak gets ready, listening to the discordant sounds of the hot water tank churning and clicking, the running water, and Isak’s out-of-tune humming of what seems to be Train’s _Hey, Soul Sister_ again.

The more he finds out about Isak's music taste, the less he can believe Isak ever had the guts to mock _Even's._

The shower goes off and there’s silence for a while. Even’s almost slipping into sleep when his face is suddenly brushed with damp, shampoo-scented curls.

‘Waugh,’ he say. And then Isak’s straddling him, bending down to gently kiss him.

‘I’m going now,’ he announces, in between kissing him quickly several more times. ‘I’ll bring treats back.'

Even wakes after a few hours of fitful, dreamless sleep to the sound of the door unlatching.

‘Miss me?’ Isak trills.

‘Yes,' says Even honestly. ‘What’d you get, then?’

Isak brandishes a massive, gleaming, neon-green can.

‘Is that... a bomb?’

‘Energy drink.’ He’s also got three family bags of M&M’s and two pillow-sized packs of marshmallows.

‘That’s it, I’m checking you into sugar rehab,’ says Even, sinking back onto the couch.

‘It’s the _greatest movie of all time_ ,’ Isak said, biffing a pack of marshmallows at Even’s head. ‘I need a good energy supply. For concentration.’

It’s _Citizen Kane_ first up tonight: Even’s choice. One of his all-time favourites. They’ve tried it once already, last week, but it was late, and they’d just watched _Speed,_  and it was maybe a bit too much of a tempo change. Isak was asleep after about ten minutes. This time, he’s clearly determined to stay conscious. He cracks open his drink as the opening credits roll, sitting up alert like a meerkat.

But one hour in, he’s slumped against Even's shoulder, mouth hanging open, and Even has to gently lift the tipping energy drink out of his loosening hands so it doesn’t spill.

‘So much for _MAXIMUM ENERGY,_ ’ he mutters at it.

‘Hm?’ says Isak, eyes fluttering open. ‘Don’t turn it off. I’m watching.’

‘Yeah, clearly riveted,’ Even smirks, and kisses him on the cheek. Isak lifts his head with effort, twists, and clumsily plants a cheek on Even’s neck, then drops his head back to his shoulder.

An hour later he's lying across Even’s lap, totally out for the count, while onscreen, Kane is hurling suitcases at Susan’s bedroom door.

They're so different in some ways, him and Isak. Even’s never been with anyone but Sonja, and she watched movies a totally detached way, like a botanist interested in plants or something. She told him she thought Citizen Kane was ‘very well-made.’ He’d never seen her cry during a movie, ever. Not even _Titanic._

The  first time Even had watched _Citizen Kane,_ with his dad, as an eleven-year-old, Even had bawled his eyes out, moved by Charles Kane’s palpable, desperate loneliness.

It turns out that Isak, too, cries easily in films, as they’d discovered to Even’s amusement when they downloaded _Moana._ And he giggles a lot, too, and generally gets super emotionally involved. If Isak’s invested in a movie he forgets everything: food spills out of his hands; he barely hears if anyone talks to him.

The other night, Eskild flounced in and switched off _In Bruges_ when they were ten minutes away from the ending. 'Come and eat dinner with us like normal people,’ he announced, hands on hips. The expression on Isak’s face was such pure murder that Even had to disguise a laugh as a coughing fit so Isak didn't kill both of them.

He guesses that falling asleep twice in a row is a sign that Isak is not 100% invested in Citizen Kane. Isak sighs in his sleep, and Even runs a hand through his knotty curls.

He remembers, suddenly, Isak's face when he woke up the morning, after that night, the night Isak came to find him at school. The new shadows on Isak’s face. And thinking: I did this to him.

There is a fact buried deep in Even’s ribcage. He knows it with utter certainty. It was fated from the moment they met.

Even knows Isak has this belief in things working out. He's young; he's new to it all.

But there is something Even knows, that no amount of CBT or thought-challenging can erase. He can hear it coming in the heartbeat of every moment like a drumroll. He wants it to hurry up and happen, he wants it to be over with.

Isak is going to leave him.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Nyttårsaften,  _ _ 31/12/16, 22.46 _

Even supposes his New Year’s Eve is going well. He can see Isak, sprawled by the coffee table with his group of friends, and Even’s in the corner with his own Nissen group. He’s never felt like he totally fits in with these slightly younger guys, who mostly discuss the crazy shit that happened last time they were wasted, how wasted they want to get tonight, and the earliest time they can be wasted again. But they’re nice guys, really. It’s fine. He’s just not in a great headspace right now.

He wanders over and helps himself to another beer while Isak isn’t looking. Isak’s been kind of weird tonight about Even’s drinking.

Even’s been doing better and better this past week, and he’s just hoping it means his depressive period is on the way out. Sometimes they’re only a couple of weeks. Other times they last months. He’s not going to think about that possibility. He takes a swig of beer and wanders out to get some cool air.

Magnus is standing out here, leaning against the wall, puffing at a joint.

‘Hey!’ he says, perking up, when Even sidles up to him. He offers his joint, and Even’s so close to taking it, but he can just imagine Isak’s expression if he comes out and sees them. He waves it away and leans next to Magnus, staring up at the star-speckled sky.

‘You know how many girls have been asking me about you tonight, bro?’ Magnus says. ‘If I’d known being gay got you so many chicks, I would have spread rumours about myself ages ago. Hey! Maybe I should try that tonight?’

Even considers giving Magnus a short Offensiveness 101 and decides he can’t be bothered.

‘I can tell people you came on to me just now, if you like.'

Magnus deliberates, then says slowly, ‘No… no… it’d have to be much cooler than that. Hey! What if me and Isak did a bit of, you know, dirty dancing? Would you mind?’

‘What the fuck, Mags?’ says Isak, emerging from the house.

He’s grinning, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. He looks a bit past tipsy, which means he’ll be getting to the happy, affectionate stage. He’ll probably try to pull Even into a dark corner at some point and suck fucking hickeys onto his neck like the uncouth teenager he is.

‘Hey, Isak!’ says Magnus, delighted. ‘Will you dance with me tonight? And, you know, grind up on me a bit? So that the girls, you know, think I’m a bit gay?’

Isak loops an arm around Even’s waist and stares at Magnus with a look of pure disgust, which is convincing for a few seconds until he ruins it with a twitching lip. But Magnus is looking from one of them to the other, increasingly crestfallen.

‘Was that inappropriate? Fuck, it’s so hard to know.’

Isak bursts out laughing, and punches him on the arm.

‘You’re beyond help, Mags. Love you. Hey,’ he says to both of them, ‘we’re playing drinking games inside, you wanna join?’ He winks at Magnus. ‘Hey, Hedda’s playing, you better go get a seat next to her.’

Magnus gives a ‘Whoop!’ and runs inside.

‘Really, you want me to join?’ says Even skeptically, pulling away. ‘A drinking game?’

Isak’s smile falls. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s just… tonight you’ve been pretty strict about my drinking.’

Isak tenses, bites his lip.

‘Aw, hey, forget it,’ says Even. He doesn’t want to kill Isak’s buzz, not on New Year’s. ‘It’s New Year’s, hey? Let’s have fun.’

Isak nods, gives him a final, searching look, then kisses him on the cheek and pulls him inside.

Isak sits them down next to a couple of guys Even doesn’t know, but he thinks he’s seen them with Vilde before. The guy closest to Isak is stocky and muscular, with gelled, sandy brown hair. His eyes light up with recognition as Isak sits down next to them. He taps his friend on the shoulder, a tall, dark-skinned guy who whips around, sees Isak, and breaks into a smile.

‘Isak, my man!’ he says. 

‘Jan!’ says Isak, fist-bumping the tall guy. He introduces Even. ‘This is Jan,’ – he gestures at the dark-skinned guy – ‘and Rolf,’ – he points to the sandy-haired guy. 

The game’s King’s Cup. These two guys, whoever the fuck they are, keep targeting Isak. First Rolf makes Isak his mate, and then keeps taking massive swigs from his own glass so Isak has to as well. They both nominate Isak every chance they get. By the end of the game Isak’s messy as fuck, and they’re both clearly delighted.

‘No,’ Even hears Isak telling them. ‘I’m serious, I can freestyle really good. Just give me a theme.’

‘Cleaning a toilet,’ says Jan. Isak giggles, tries to stand up and stumbles. Rolf gallantly rescues him, sits him back down.

‘I’m getting you some water,’ Even tells Isak, standing himself.

‘Ehh, he’s fine, dude,’ says Rolf, raising a palm. ‘Chill.’

‘He’s my boyfriend,’ says Even, shortly. ‘He can tell me to chill if he wants to.’

Rolf looks instantly constipated, which is nice.

‘Boyfriend?’ says Rolf, stupidly. ‘You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend.’ 

Jan frowns and nudges him in apparent commiseration. Isak, meanwhile, is totally oblivious, waving an arm up at Even. 

‘Yup, this is my boyfriend,’ he announces to the entire room. ‘Even. He’s really hot, right?’

Rolf gapes between them for a while, while Jan looks bored. Then Isak goes, impatiently, ‘So, who’s gonna give me a beat?’ and Jan recollects himself and starts one. Isak crosses his arms and puts on his ridiculous ‘cool rapper’ pout. He spins around to face Even.

‘Ooh, baby, I don’t know much about toilet hygiene,’ he raps.

Even cocks an eyebrow. He is going to have so much fun telling Isak about this tomorrow.

‘But, daaaaamn, boy. The way you get that  _ bowl  _ clean…’ 

Isak breaks off into giggles at his own hilariousness, and then almost achieves the difficult feat of losing his balance while already sitting. Even rolls his eyes and goes to get the biggest glass of water he can find.

When he comes back, Isak’s still going: ‘You pick up some bleach, some spray and a brush. You – you – uhhh, something flush.’

‘You make my heart flush,’ suggests Rolf. Which doesn’t even fucking make sense.

Even bends hands the water to Isak, who takes a small sip, grimaces like it’s pure poison, then puts it on the floor. 

‘I mean, Isak, you’re managing to rhyme, but the rhythm’s physically painful,’ says Rolf, pulling out a rollie from his pocket. ‘I think we should stop for everyone’s sake. Come for a smoke?’ 

He makes the offer mostly to Isak, but with a cursory glance tossed at Even. Isak looks at Even doubtfully.

‘Go ahead,’ Even says, rolling his eyes.

He knows he can trust Isak, he shouldn’t be worried, but his anxiety won’t listen. It rolls in his gut as he watches them go outside. Once they’ve gone, Even wanders down the hall, finds an empty bedroom and throws himself on the bed, lies spread-eagled, staring at the ceiling. He’s drunker than he should be.

He knows he’s not thinking straight. Isak wasn’t flirting with those guys.

After hardly any time at all, though, his paranoia gets the better of him, and  he goes out to find Isak. They’re still outside, leaning against the wall and wreathed and smoke. Isak’s in a fit of raucous laughter, head tipping back against the brick, with Rolf, Jan, and Mahdi surrounding him. Rolf’s watching him, smiling fondly, and as Isak stumbles (he’s so drunk – maybe too drunk – Even should have been looking out for him instead of slinking off) he catches him by the arm, rights him, then reaches quickly up and tucks back the hair that’s fallen into Isak’s eyes. 

It’s nothing. It’s an innocent gesture. And even if it isn’t, so what? So this hot, charming, probably-neurotypical guy is interested in Isak? That’s to be expected. Isak is fucking beautiful, and manages to be adorable even when he makes up embarrassing raps. Of course people are going to be interested in him.

Even decides not to go over there. Instead, he goes inside and finds Magnus and Jonas sitting squished together on a single armchair.

‘–can’t quadruple-text, right?’ Magnus is saying. ‘And Vilde’s probably at a cooler party, she’s not going to want to come here.’

‘But this is your moment to win her back, bro!’

‘Maybe I fucked the sex up somehow – hey. Serious question. Is it bad to leave your socks on?’

‘No, that’s hot,’ Even interrupts, and Jonas snorts with laughter. ‘Hey, Mags, you don’t have any more weed, do you?’

‘Yeah, bro!’ says Magnus, high-pitched. ‘Hang out with us! Yeah, hey – come to the bathroom with us, we’re gonna smoke in there.’

He sits leaning against the warmed towel rack, while Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas pile into the bath. He listens to them chatter away, their voices resounding against the tiles, all quiet himself, letting the high take him over. He fucking missed this, the sense of pure release. It feels like his darkest thoughts are muffled under a blanket of snow. He knows he’ll regret it tomorrow, but right now tomorrow seems very far away.

Despite the blanketed calm, though, he finds his thoughts keep returning to the image of that guy Rolf’s hand in Isak’s hair. 

Why can’t he stop thinking about it?

It’s not because he’s scared of Isak cheating. It’s something else.

It’s more to do with... how happy he looked.

Rolf is the kind of guy who probably finds life a breeze, who doesn’t spend entire weeks in bed because of mental breakdowns, who’s never stayed up for fifty hours straight and during that time pulled up all the carpet in his living room and bought multiple fucking antique pianos on the internet. Who doesn’t go out naked in the middle of the night when he’s supposed to be his hot new boyfriend; who doesn’t regularly terrify and distress the people who care about him.

‘Hey,’ says somebody. It’s Isak – alone. He’s flushed, happy, his eyes dark in the half-light, a hand curling around Even’s wrist. ‘The countdown’s starting soon.’

Even lets himself be tugged out to the balcony, where everyone’s gathered to watch the fireworks in the harbour. Jan and Rolf are nowhere to be seen. He has Isak all to himself again. It’s cold, so he stands behind Isak, wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. Isak tips his head back and murmurs in Even’s ear:

‘Hey. This is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Because I don’t know if you know, but I have this really awesome boyfriend.’

‘Awesome, huh? You think so?’

‘Um, yes. Like, he’s got the coolest mind. I could listen to him talk forever. And he’s always full of these amazing ideas… which are sometimes super dodgy, though…’

‘Uhh, I think you mean super ingenious,’ says Even.

‘And he’s the best listener. And he cares a lot about the people he loves. And, most importantly, he’s, like, insanely fucking hot, so…’

‘Wow, he sounds so great,’ says Even. ‘You know what? You should definitely put out for him tonight.’

Isak rolls his eyes, and Even kisses the reddening tip of his ear. Isak’s still, like, Victorian-chaste in public. Even doesn’t mind at all, considering how dirty he can get when they’re alone.

‘You’re really sexy, so I bet it would be a great start to your boyfriend’s New Year,’ Even goes on. Isak spins around and throws his arms around Even's neck.

‘He’s really sexy too, did I tell you?’ he mumbles. ‘Man, it’s lucky we both found each other, imagine if we hadn’t… there’d be a lot less... sexiness–’

‘You’re so fucking drunk,’ Even accuses, and kisses his boyfriend gently on the corner of the mouth. He glances up at the clock. 11.59. He takes Isak in his arms, and a few seconds later the countdown begins on the radio.

‘10! 9! 8!...’

And then Isak’s pressed up against him, kissing him, and whispering how much he loves him, his breath hot on his neck and in his hair, and everything’s all right for now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting up two chapters today because this one is a massive unnecessary detour, lol. Thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> I think I should mention at this point that I've never been to Oslo. I have also never had bipolar. I've done research but probably got a few things wrong. Please let me know if you spot anything :)
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!! I have to stop myself from replying to each comment with keyboard smashes and hundreds of love hearts, haha <3

_Tirsdag, 17.1.16, 19:25_

Right before everything goes to shit, they have a perfect night.

It starts when they get Even’s place all to themselves on a Tuesday night. They’re sitting on the kitchen bench together, eating buttery _lefse._

'Where are you?' Isak asks.

Isak asks Even a lot of questions. Even tries to be as honest as he can with him, because he clearly wants to understand so badly. But he knows it’s hard for Isak to hear – that his new boyfriend’s still depressed, even though Isak’s with him all the time. In a new relationship most people are happy, and it must kill Isak sometimes, to know Even isn’t.

One thing he tries to make clear, though, is that the depression is better, with Isak there. It’s sort of like he’s walking through the dark, but there’s a warm hand in his own.

‘I’m pretty good,’ Even says, in answer to his question, and is surprised to find this is true.

Resting over on the dining table is a pile of psychology books Isak got out from the library.

He came home yesterday,after grabbing kebabs with Andrea and Petter, the only people he still sees from his old school, to find Isak sitting at the table, his head bowed over the books, chewing viciously on the end of a pencil. The decimated remains of the pink eraser were scattered in front of him.

‘Hey,’ said Isak, distractedly letting himself be kissed.

‘You taste like eraser.’

‘Uh huh.’ Isak pulled away, glanced down at the open book in front of him. ‘Hey, um, you don’t take any medication, do you?’

‘No,’ said Even, shrugging. ‘I saw a psychologist for a while, when I first got diagnosed. I've tried a couple different medications but they didn't work for me.'

‘It says here lithium's really good.'

‘Also causes renal failure,’ said Even carelessly, going to the fridge to get a yoghurt. 'When was that textbook published, the 90s?'

Isak sat there quietly, biting his lip and watching Even.

‘What’s up?’ said Even.

‘Nothing. Wanna go for a walk tonight, look at the sunset?’

He’s suggested this before in the last few weeks, and Even’s never felt up to it. But his energy’s really good today. It’s probably helping being back at school, in the hustle and bustle of people, having something to occupy his mind. He’s feeling optimistic that maybe, just maybe, he’s stabilising faster than he ever has before.

Despite their best intentions, he and Isak manage to mess around for ages with dinner, and then there’s a bit of making out on the table, and then Isak practically drags him into the bedroom, and then, lost in the warm afterglow, they both drift to sleep.

He wakes up suddenly to find dark has fallen and Isak’s vanished. He stumbles out of bed and trudges into the lounge to find him. He’s perched on the couch, watching cartoons.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he says, and Isak shakes his head. ‘How about that walk, then?’

‘Now?’

‘Why not?’ He's checked the temperature on his phone; it's an unusually warm night for mid-winter. They'll be fine with a couple extra layers.

Isak does his bewildered-deer stare for a few seconds, but then seems to come around to it.

‘Yup. I’ll put on shoes.’

‘How about actual clothes too, so you don’t die of hypothermia,’ Even calls down the hall.

‘ _You_ can talk,’ Isak yells back.

Then they’re walking in the icy air, and Even’s practically buzzing. He’s got more energy than he’s had in weeks. He's afraid of losing this feeling. He wants to prolong this night as long as possible.

‘Let’s go down to the marina,’ he suggests, and Isak nods.

It’s totally silent when they get there. The boats bob quietly, shining in the moonlight. The sight reminds Even of this time he went up to Troms to stay with his uncle, a fisherman. He shook Even awake at 3am to go out on the boat, because that was when the fish were the easiest to catch. He doesn't know why that is. Maybe fish are nocturnal. Or maybe they fall asleep and forget to swim.

He goes a little way onto the wharf, lies down on his back and looks up at the clouded sky. He feels Isak lie down next to him. He can’t make out any stars, so he closes his eyes instead and imagines himself and Isak living in Troms, buying a cute stone cottage in some little village there. Painting a little scene on the letterbox. Going out on a boat together, catching fish, coming back and frying them up for dinner. He thinks he'd like to live like that, if Isak was there.

'Hey. Wanna move to the coast and buy a fishing boat?' he says.

'Yep,' says Isak, rolling over onto his back too. 'Can I paint the boat yellow?’

'Sure, if I can name her after my favourite person in the world...' He pauses for dramatic effect. 'Gabrielle.' He starts to hum  _Ring meg._

'Oh my God. I’ll push you off the pier.'

 _'_ Hey, what do you want to do?’ says Even, suddenly. It’s something he’s been thinking about a lot. Their futures.

'Hm?'

'Like, in life. What will be the great vocation of Isak Valterson?'

There’s a pause. 'Dunno,’ Isak says, eventually.

'But you must have something you want to do.'

Even sits up, draws his legs to his chest and stares out to sea. There’s a shifting, dappled trail of light on the water, leading out to where the moon’s hanging. One moment it’s bright, clear half-circle and the next it’s obscured by drifting clouds. There’s something he always finds so calming about the sea. He should come here more often.

'Nah. I don’t think about it,’ says Isak. ‘You’re gonna be a famous director, though. I can be, like, your kept boy.’

‘I’ll expect you to be a good house-husband, though. You’ll have to get a thousand times better at cleaning.’

‘Nah, we’ll just get a bunch of maids.’

'All right. I'll have to get some kind of shitty day job,’ Even muses, ‘until I hit the big time. Rubbish truck driver, what do you reckon?'

'Ooh, sexy.' Isak's face is against his neck, now, pressing cool lips to his skin, once, twice. 'I can imagine you picking me up from school in a rubbish truck,' he murmurs. 'Everyone will be so jealous of my hot boyfriend and his sweet ride.’

'And you'll always know where I am, at every moment,’ says Even.

‘Why’s that?’

‘The smell.’

‘Fuck, that’s so romantic.’  

They make out, lazily, and then Even pushes Isak onto his back, deepens the kiss. Isak’s looking very fuckable right now, looking up at him through dark lashes.

‘How about a doctor?’ Even asks.

'Me? No way.’

'Yes way. You got a six in biology.' He grinds lightly down into Isak, and Isak tilts his hips up slightly, then, delayed, understands what he said.

'Hey. Did you sneak a look at my report?'

'Shouldn't leave these things lying around.'

'Lying around _in my schoolbag?'_

Even laughs. 'It was a really nice report, I don’t know why you were worried. All the teachers love you. Suck-up.'

'I'm _not_ a suck-up!' Isak's mouth falls open, indignant. 'I'm – I'm the opposite of a suck-up!'

'Bullshit. You’re sweet-talking every single one of them.’

They hear voices, someone walking along the docks towards them.

‘Shit, shit!’ says Isak, giggling, rolling out from under him, and then they've jumped to their feet and Isak's grabbed Even’s hand and they’re running along the docks. They run and run until they're both out of breath and have to stop. Isak bends over, hands on knees. Even sees this really pretty sailboat, a pocket cruiser with a cabin, painted bird’s-egg blue with gold lettering.

‘Hey.' He takes out his phone and turns the torch on, walks over to the boat.

‘Huh?’ says Isak, breathlessly.

‘This one. We'll get a boat like this one,’ he says, shining the light over it. ‘The  _Gabrielle.’_

‘Hmm, I like it,’ Isak says, sidling up to him. Even wraps his arms around him, grateful for the warmth. 

‘How about we become fishermen. Then eventually your smart brain will get bored with that, so you'll start taking medical school long distance.'

'And all the assignments I send in will smell like fish guts.'

'And then one day you’ll become... the great  _Doctor Valtersen._ ’

‘Aw, shuddup.’

'Hey, think about it, though. You’d get to shout ‘Make way, I’m a doctor!’ all the time. You can shout it at parties, when you want to get to the punch.’

‘But then what if I shout it and it makes someone _choke_ on their punch?'

‘Then you’d save him, of course. And then he’d get that syndrome, where patients fall in love with their doctors. The guy just turns around lays eyes on you with your pretty curls and your white coat, and _bam_. He’s totally smitten.’

‘I’m wearing my work clothes to a party?’ 

'Yeah, otherwise no one will believe you when you shout "I'm a doctor."'

'Oh, of course.'

‘And, when your gentleman-in-distress stands up and brushes his hair out of his eyes, you realise it’s actually a film star.’

‘Oh yeah, it's Liam Hemsworth.'

'Right. So you and Liam run off to Hollywood together, and you spend your days having wild sex all over his billion-dollar mansion.' Even strides over to look at the name on the blue boat. It’s _Marianne,_ in pretty, twirling script. _Isak_ would look nice, he thinks, which he knows is unbearably cheesy of him.

'You fuck in, uh... the hot tub as big as a swimming pool; in the rooftop garden–’

‘ _In_ the garden?’

‘Yep, right in the parsley.’

Isak snorts. ‘Parsley.’

‘Liam’s fond of making soups. And then you bang several times on his water-bed, while staring up at yourselves in the ceiling mirror.'

'Is – what’s-her-name – ‘

‘Miley.’

‘Does she join?’

'Sure, whatever you like. And within twenty four hours, you'll be all blissed-out, smelling of parsley, sunbathing with Liam by the pool, probably high on blow, going, “Who's Even? Never heard of him.”’

Isak scoffs. He leans in, and says, all husky, 'Nah. I’d never. You're much sexier than Liam Hemsworth.'

‘That’s right, baby. I bet I can give you a better time than he could.’

He’s half-joking, but then Isak goes, very low and throaty,

‘Yeah, I bet you can too.’

Even twists rapidly, presses his mouth to Isak's, then trails kisses down to the base of neck, feels him gasp. Isak always goes crazy when Even’s mouth's on his neck. He can feel Isak tensing, trembling, trying not to squirm. He keeps sucking at his neck, moving up to his ear, the soft hollow beneath it.

'So, wanna go on a little boat ride?' Even says. He rests his hand on the stern of the _Marianne._

Isak stops, briefly smushes his nose into Even's. But then pulls back and examines him in the yellowed light, searching his eyes.

Checking. For signs of mania, maybe.

For a second, Even feels like they're so far away from each other.

Then Isak smiles, all crooked.

'Let’s do it,' he says, jumps up, and climbs over the iron railings. As he’s clambering onto the boat, he nearly slips and falls into the water, then awkwardly falls into the boat on all fours. Even lands on his feet and smirks.

'How come you don't wanna be a doctor, though?' he says, as they explore.

'Aw, everyone’s always expecting me to come up with some life plan. What does it matter?'

'Cause you're smart, Isak.’ He puts on a teacher-voice, and echoes the popular refrain from Isak's report. ‘You have _potential.'_

Isak snorts. Even fiddles with the metal buttons on the cloth covering the cabin doors, strips the cloth back, then tries the door, but it's locked. They sit on the bow of the boat instead, relax into its gentle rocking motions, listen to the water sloshing on the hull.

‘You really don't have any plans at all?’ says Even. ‘Dreams, hopes, all that?’

I just wanna be with you.’ Isak’s so close he can feel the warmth of his breath on his cheek.

'That's a really shit plan. You should go see a careers advisor.'

'What's wrong with it?' Isak crawls into his lap and kisses him, resentfully, biting his bottom lip a little harder than he needs to. 

He bites at Isak's neck in return, then licks the soft place under his ear, then feels Isak shiver. It's not a sex shiver, he realises: Isak's cold.

'We should go back,' he says, and Isak protests but the shaking's still going, so they begin the journey home.

When they're get in, Isak's still trembling and his nose is cold when they kiss. Even tugs off his thousands of layers, then pulls him into bed and pulls his body close under the blankets to warm him up. Isak quickly gets bored of the arrangement and wriggles around, beginning to kiss his way down Even's stomach.

The first few times Even gave Isak head, Isak was too nervous to return the favour, but now it seems to be his new favourite activity. Even’s not complaining.

He's trying to keep quiet, though, because they've already made enough noise getting back in the house to wake the dead and he doesn't want to deal with his flatmate's awkward looks tomorrow – but Isak’s making it very difficult.

‘That was.. amazing,’ he gasps, afterwards, pulling Isak up to his lap to kiss him gently. ‘Where the fuck did you learn to do that?’

'Biology research,' says Isak, nonchalantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lefse – soft Norwegian flatbread


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of a 2-chapter update :)

_ Torsdag, 19.1.2017, 15:03 _

Turns out Isak has, in fact, learned his new blow-job skills from an extensive and in-depth study of certain pornographic films. He sent Even the links the next day, and they watched a bit of it together on Even's laptop, and then Even shut the screen and forgot about it. 

This was an unfortunate error, he realises a second too late, after opening his laptop in the middle of the public library.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turn accusingly towards him, including those of Isak, Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas, with whom they’ve been quietly studying with for the past hour.

‘Oops,’ he says, grinning and waving at his new audience while snappily pressing mute. He sends thanks to the universe that they decided not to hit the school library today. Meanwhile, Isak has gone scarlet.

‘Weeeell,’ says Mahdi, standing up awkwardly, ‘I think that’s my cue to leave. But we’ll see you at the party Friday, yeah guys?’

‘Sure,’ says Even, shooting Mahdi an ostentatious wink.

The other guys follow him, Jonas cuffing Isak on the head as he goes. Isak puts his face in his hands, At least three people are still staring, so they go into a study nook for a bit of privacy. Isak buries his nose back in yet another book on mental health. Even honestly didn’t know there were this many in publication.

He’s bored of his own essay, so he decides to distract Isak the best way he knows how. 

'Is it normal to kiss your boyfriend this much?' Isak asks, after they’ve been making out for a good while. Even’s proud of how far Isak’s come; just a couple of weeks ago he would have balked at the idea of making out in a library, for all that they’re in a secluded study space.

'No,' answers Even. 'It's actually a symptom of bipolar. The uncontrollable desire to kiss Isak Valterson.'

'Oh, fuck off.'

'You'd better watch out when you next see Magnus' mum, is all I’m saying.’

‘Hey,’ says Isak, very casually, trailing a finger over the book. ‘So… you’re, like, pretty stable lately.’

‘Yeah, sure.’

‘You’d know if you were getting manic again, right?’

‘Yeah,’ says Even.

‘Does it bother you when I ask about it?’ says Isak.

Even shrugs. It doesn't bother him, exactly. It' s just that he doesn’t want to think about himself and his problems sometimes. Not now, when Isak’s looking so bright and happy. He doesn’t want to remind himself of how ridiculously poorly matched the two of them are: the golden boy and the fuck-up.

Isak swallows. ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll try to… I won’t ask about it as much.’

‘That’s okay,’ says Even. ‘And thanks.’

It’s weirdly quiet as they walk home together. Isak looks at him a few times, like he’s about to say something, then decides against it. He can feel the distance between them again.

_ It’s starting,  _ he thinks.  _ Like I knew it would. _

_ Fredag, 20.1.2017, 23:32 _

The thrumming bass is making the floor and the walls of the kitchen vibrate. Even’s sneakily pouring himself a vodka while no one's around. Through the door he can see dancing bodies, moving closer and apart, entangling and disentangling. He can see Isak, looking beautiful tonight in a crisp white shirt, his carefully styled hair coming loose and falling in his face.

Even’s feeling… weirdly reckless, a little on edge. He’s almost sure it’s not the start of anything. It’s just one of the countless shades of his super-fun 'emotional rainbow.'

He’s already drunk way more than he should have, tonight, which makes him guilty whenever he sees Isak. Then he feels unfairly resentful, which makes him want to drink more. Yeah, he’s not being totally logical tonight, but whatever. 

He watches as Isak is accosted by the girl gang, led by Vilde and Eva. He hears them all giggling as they tug him down the hall.

‘Truth or Dare! Truth or Dare!’

The girls have been eagerly trying to draw Isak in for girly heart-to-hearts ever since the start of the year, clearly desperate to find out more about his and Even’s relationship. Isak’s been keeping his cards close to his chest, but Even suspects that the heady combination of Vilde's bottle of tequila and Truth or Dare will spell his downfall. 

He considers joining them for a second, but, you know what? Maybe he won't. Maybe he'll out stay here and have a few more drinks on his own.

He goes out into the living room, and immedialely spots Jonas standing at the far wall, arms crossed, staring straight at him. Even shoots a glare back at him – what's his issue? – then turns around and goes straight back into the kitchen, to find Isak standing there.

‘Hey,’ says Isak, looking dubiously at him.

‘Hey, baby,’ says Even, moving in closer and trying to kiss him. Isak grimaces and pulls back.

‘You smell like booze,’ he says, then puts cool hands on each side of Even’s face, trying to look into his eyes.

‘Jesus, _Dr Valterson_ , chill the fuck out,’ says Even, reaching for the bottle of vodka on the bench. Isak narrows his eyes and pulls the vodka away from Even’s reach.

‘Give that back.' Even swipes at it.

'You're really wasted, Even,' said Isak, but he looks instantly ashamed of himself nonetheless, and steps away from the bottle.

'Am I embarrassing you?’

'I just don't think... you should have any more,’ Isak says, very quietly. ‘I think we should go home, maybe.'

'Fucking hell. Won’t you _ leave it alone,  _ Isak.’ 

He’s fiery, irritated, the drink coursing through him. Isak’s definitely reminding him of Sonja, with that sanctimonious expression. He hates this feeling: someone else's worry, heavy against him. Weighing him down, holding him back from freedom.

‘You know,’ Even announces, ‘I never expect you’d act like this.’

'Like what?' Isak says loudly. His eyes are bloodshot; maybe he's been smoking weed somewhere, in secret. Hiding it from Even. 'Act like what?'

'Like I'm a toddler and you're the parent,' Even spits. 'You know it really takes the fun out of a relationship when I feel like you're supervising me.'

'But you clearly  _ need _ to be supervised,' Isak shouts.

'Yeah, because I'm a fucking  _ head case _ , is that right?' 

Isak flinches, and his mouth falls slightly open like he’s been hit. 

Even wants to take it back, to take it all back, the words that spilled out of his mouth like bile, he never wants to be the cause of Isak looking like that ever again. 

But then Isak’s face goes hard, and closed, and he turns and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.

Even’s too drunk and too shaky with emotion to follow him. He pours himself another drink instead, watches the crystal clear vodka splash into the glass. It shines in the light, splintering into hundreds of tiny diamonds, looking perfect and beautiful, like something that he doesn’t deserve.


	7. Chapter 7

_ Lørdag, 21.1.17, 10:33am _

Even wakes up on a couch in Eva’s lounge, squished up against some girl he doesn’t know, and the first thing he feels is a sense of deep unsteadiness, like the floor is tilting.  _ Isak, _ he thinks, and shivers with a sudden chill, but he can’t remember anything.

He stands, and it feels like there’s broken glass jangling in his head.

‘Ugh,’ he says, pressing hands to his temples.

He shouldn’t have drunk so much. Why did he? Why was he so fucking stupid?

Why didn’t Isak stop him?

Where is Isak? 

That's the urgent question. He wanders through the house, opening doors to find endless sleeping bodies, piled on beds and cramped in armchairs, but no Isak anywhere he can see. He goes upstairs and tries two doors with no success. 

He opens a third to see Jonas, sitting on the double bed, propped up on a pillow, looking down at Isak, who is sleeping slumped against him, lips slightly parted. Even can’t prevent a sudden stab of total and irrational jealousy. 

A loud chainsaw sound makes Even jump, and he looks down to see Magnus, starfished on his back on the floor and snoring loudly.

The snore makes Jonas look up, and he sees Even, and almost imperceptibly tightens his arm around Isak.

‘Yeah?’ he says, coolly. His eyes are hard, and Even feels even more off-balance.

He tries, awkwardly, to go for a joke. ‘Sleeping with my boyfriend, huh?’

Jonas’ eyebrows tighten.

‘Yeah, well, where were you?’

‘I – what do you mean?’ 

Jonas seems to want to get up, and tries to slide Isak off him, but Isak shifts and stirs so Jonas gives up.

‘What’s your deal, bro,’ he hisses instead.

'What?'

‘I said, what’s your fucking deal? He was a mess last night, he was crying for fucking hours, totally inconsolable because he thought you two were breaking up.’

He feels like he's been punched viciously in the gut.

'For hours?' he says slowly.

‘Yeah, but you didn’t notice, did you, because you were off getting wasted. Like, what the fuck?’

Jonas is clearly both furious and intent on not waking Isak up, which means that he’s talking in a kind of frenzied, choked hiss. It would probably be really funny if he wasn't struggling to breathe normally.

'I didn’t–’ 

But Jonas isn’t finished. He notices Jonas’ fist is clenching and unclenching on the blankets, the knuckles going hard and pale and then soft again. Jonas, the nice guy, the guy who’s always laughing and smiling, always the peace-maker, is trying to hold back his anger towards  _Even._

‘He’s spending all this time doing research to help you,  he’s been sleeping really badly, he’s been stressing himself out trying to take care of  you . And now, the second you’re feeling a bit better, you go and get shit-faced, even though you _know_ it messes you up? Like, what the fuck?’

‘He hasn’t been sleeping well?’ Even says. He didn’t even know that, and he sleeps with Isak every night. How did he not know that? He remembers how often Isak would fall asleep in the middle of movies recently.

‘I’m –’ 

He stops. He swallows hard. It doesn’t matter if he’s sorry. That doesn’t fix things.

Jonas watches him, and the anger in his face slowly dissipates. It’s replaced with something worse, something like pity.

‘Look, man,’ Jonas continues, his voice gentle all of a sudden. ‘Maybe, like, you were used to your ex-girlfriend looking after you, but Isak’s my age, and… like… even though he pretends it doesn’t, all this stuff gets to him. And he’s already got the shit with his parents, you know.’

He pauses for Even to say something. But he can’t. He stays silent, waiting.

‘Like, he takes other people’s stuff on board, you know? And it’s a hundred times worse with anyone he’s dating. So whenever you’re happy, he’s, like, super happy, but when you’re sad, he’s super sad. It’s messing him up, dude. It’s just – I don’t know. But sometimes I think, maybe you need someone who’s more, I don’t know, thick-skinned or whatever.’

‘Maybe,' Even manages, trying to make his voice sound normal.

‘I just – yeah. I don’t know. I just don’t know if you’re – the best person for him right now, you know?’ Jonas says, sounding apologetic.

And Even agrees. Hasn’t he always?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you so much again for the sweet comments. I'm taking a break from replying because I don't have anything to say right now apart from 'I'm sorry!'... but just know I read and massively appreciate each one <3 The end is in sight... And I know the story's in a bleak place, but the tags never lie... <3

_Onsdag, 25.1.17, 15:26_

On Sunday, Even moves back into his parents’ place. Just for a few days, he tells Isak.

It’s fine, you know. He takes a couple days off school and spends all his time in bed, and his mum looks after him just like she did when he was a kid, and he feels like he’s very distant from everything that’s going on around him, sort of like he’s underwater. To be honest, he appreciates the all-encompassing numbness, because he thinks that what follows – when he and Isak actually break up for good – will be worse.

On Wednesday, he goes back to school for the first time, and absorbs next to nothing from any of his classes.

He comes home to find Isak sitting at his kitchen table, fiddling with the drawstrings of his old, grey hoodie. 

‘Are you sure you don’t want a tea, darling?’ his mum's asking him. Isak shakes his head, looks up and sees Even.

‘S-sorry,’ he says, 'I wanted to catch you after school but you left, so I just – I had to – how come you haven’t been replying to my texts?’

He looks so vulnerable that Even’s heart pangs. His mum looks between them, then quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

‘I’m sorry,’ says Even helplessly.

He can’t give more explanation than that. He’d had this irrational anxiety that Isak would be angry when he talked to him. Still pissed about his behaviour the other night, and angry on top of that with him for moving out. And he felt like he couldn't handle that, seeing anger in Isak's face again.

It seems like a stupid thought, now that Isak’s sitting at his mum’s kitchen table looking small and fragile, like the slightest touch would cause him to collapse.

‘Want to – we could go for a walk?'

‘Yes,’ says Isak, getting to his feet instantly.

‘Mum,’ Even calls, ‘we’re just going for a walk.’

‘Take some baking with you in case you get hungry,’ his mum says, accosting them at the front door and trying to cram a bran muffin into Isak’s mouth.

‘We’re not climbing Mt Everest, Mum,’ says Even, saving Isak from the onslaught of the bran muffin and slipping it into his own jacket pocket instead.

‘Thank you, Mrs Bech,’ says Isak quietly. His mum says,

‘Anytime,’ and before he can slip outside, she pulls him into a hug.

As they walk out onto the street, Isak’s quiet, hunched in on himself. Even hasn’t touched him in three days. He wants to take him in his arms and kiss him better, but he can’t bring himself to reach out.

‘So,’ says Isak, looking out at the grey, smoky horizon, ‘have you had enough time to think yet?’ He’s clearly trying to sound blazé, but his voice catches.

‘Yes,’ Even says. 'And I wanted – I wanted to ask you to think, too. About whether you really want this, whether you want me and my shit to be in your life, day in, day out. Because it doesn’t go away, you know.’

‘What?’ says Isak loudly, but Even’s not looking at him, has to get this all out before he loses courage.

‘Because, you know, this has all happened so quickly, us moving in together – you haven’t had enough time to really think about what you’re getting into.’

‘To  _think_ about it?’ says Isak, and Even looks up at him. There's anger in his face now, for sure. ‘How can you say I haven't been thinking about it?'

‘No, no, that’s not what I meant. I know you’ve done all that research and stuff,’ Even says, ‘but it’s not – it’s not, you haven’t had any time to step back and really consider everything about what this means, about what you're signing up for. We’ve moved so fast –'

‘So you think I haven't really  _considered_ whether or not I love you?'

‘No! I’m not saying that –’

‘You’re not allowed,’ Isak says, furious, fists clenching, ‘to just decide whether you’re _good_ for me or not. There’s two of us, so there’s two votes.’

‘But, Isak.’

‘No, stop. This isn't fair, you can’t just say that I need time, you don’t get to decide that. I say I _don’t_ need time, so there.’

‘But, Isak, listen.’

Isak waits, his jaw set.

And Even is washed over with the same heavy, aching feeling he's so used to.

The feeling that with every passing day, more cracks are appearing in Isak's love for him. That Isak is slipping away from him with every fuck-up Even makes; and he'll keep making them.

Sometimes, when Isak looks at Even with love in his eyes, it just makes Even hate himself so much he can't stand it.

‘Maybe,’ says Even, looking at the ground. ‘Maybe it's me who needs time.’

There’s a long silence. Even can't bring himself to look up again and see Isak's expression.

‘Not like,’ Even says quickly. ‘Not like before. It’s nothing to do with – it’s nothing you’ve done, and it's not – it doesn't have to be for long, just, I just think it will be good for both of us, you know, to get some, some breathing space.'

 _And maybe,_  he says silently, _you'll see it's actually quite nice, not having your energy drained all the time, not having to lug around this responsibility for another person's mess. Being unburdened._

Isak is quiet for a long time. Even looks up to see Isak's own head is bowed, hair sheltering his eyes.

Finally, Isak says, the forced-casual voice back again, ‘Okay. So I’ll keep staying with Eskild and stuff for a bit… and you’ll stay with your parents.’

Even’s chest aches sharply, but he says, ‘Yes.’

‘And do you know when–’ Isak begins, but then he stops himself, runs a hand through his hair, and tugs his hood up.

Even doesn’t want him to go. He suddenly has a thousand more questions. He wants to know how Isak is. If he's sleeping okay. Why he didn't tell Even that he was sleeping badly. How long it's been bad. He wants to know what Isak's been doing the last few days, if it's been okay being back with his old flatmates. He wants so badly, more than anything, to tell Isak to forget everything he said and come home with him.

‘I should go,’ says Isak. ‘I forgot, uh, I forgot I had something. I’ll see you later.’

And he turns and walks away. Even walks back home, crumbling the bran muffin in his pocket into tiny little pieces.


	9. Chapter 9

_Fredag, 27.1.17, 14:22_

Even spends most of his time during the couple days at school trying not to look for Isak every time he turns the corner, and failing. Every time Even sees him, he thinks Isak looks a little more tired, like the lines under his eyes are etched a little deeper in his skin. But Even's probably just imagining things; projecting his own exhaustion onto Isak. He's sleeping fitfully at the moment.

He’s walking home on Friday when he hears a skateboard rattling behind him. A second later Jonas pulls to a stop just front of him, making Even startle. 

‘Hey, dude,’ Jonas says breathlessly. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Sure,’ says Even, warily, and Jonas picks up his board and walks beside him, keeping step. They go on in silence for a while. Even feels increasingly apprehensive.

‘Look,’ says Jonas eventually. ‘I fucked up.’

Even's surprised; he can’t think of what to say.

‘Isak’s been really – anyway. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you.’

‘No,’ says Even. ‘I think it was good you did. I think – it’s good for both of us, to have some time to adjust. It was stupid to move in together so soon.’

‘Maybe,’ says Jonas, ‘but – I didn’t realise you’d, you know, move out _instantly.’_

‘It wasn’t just what you said,’ says Even. 'I’ve been thinking about it, about us, a lot. About taking some time to think. Both of us, I mean.’

‘But, look,’ Jonas says. ‘It was – I see now I was wrong, okay? Isak’s – not doing so hot right now.’

‘What do you mean?’ says Even sharply.

Jonas sighs, rolls his shoulders. ‘Dude, I don’t know. You should talk to him. I know you’re texting each other, but I think you should – I think he really needs to talk to you in person, like, properly. I know he struggles to express himself sometimes, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to talk shit through with someone.’

‘I – okay,’ says Even.

‘Cool. Sweet.’ Jonas bites his lip, looks away, then back. ‘Look, I know I’m being really fucking annoying, probably. I’m sorry. I just want Isak to be happy.’

‘It’s fine,’ says Even. ‘I’m glad he has a friend like you.’ It’s true. He likes Jonas; likes the sense he gets when he’s around him, that Jonas cares, deeply, about doing the right thing; likes that he tries to protect and look after the people who need it.

Jonas nods, clears his throat, looks away.

‘Is it chill if I just ask you one more thing?’

‘Yes,’ says Even reluctantly, not feeling like he has much choice.

‘Did you ever think about getting some help?’

Even closes his eyes.

‘Yes,’ he says, trying not to sound weary. ‘I have.’

‘So you’ve, like, tried – psychologists and stuff?’

‘I had a psychologist for a year or so, but she didn’t really help much. And I’ve tried a couple different medications, but they were no good.'

‘Magnus’ mum has a really good psychologist,’ Jonas says, tentatively. ‘Magnus said, you could come in and just chat to her for free sometime, if you wanted. Just to see, you know.’

Even says nothing.

He’s got this old feeling starting to overwhelm him: this feeling like he’s scrabbling on ice. And suddenly, as he imagines himself going back into the doctor’s office, trying to explain, his mind starts racing.

_Won’t understand –_

_Don’t you know how hard I tried?_

_– I can’t –_

_Little white room. Rat in a cage._

_I don’t want – I don’t want to go back in there. I’m doing –_

_I’m doing fine on my own._

‘Sorry,’ he says eventually. ‘I just don’t think that’s going to work.’

After Jonas skates away, Even feels exhausted. He goes home and crawls under the covers of his bed, listens to some slow, sad music. 

Jonas words, ‘ _Isak’s really – Isak’s not doing so hot,’_ echo in his mind, over and over.

Even’s been telling himself, slowly convincing himself over the course of this week, that Isak will really be happier, on the whole, without him. He’s been telling himself that the tiredness he sees in Isak’s face isn’t – _can’t_ be to do with Even. He’s been incresingly certain that very soon, Isak will be laughing with his friends, going to parties and flirting with guys. That he'll be happier.

 _Not doing so hot,_ Even thinks, and once more sees Isak’s drawn face and downcast eyes in the hall.

_It can’t be my fault._

_(He's said he loves you.)_

_But he’s young. It’s his first relationship. He could be wrong._

_Besides. How could he love me?_

_(You saw what he looked like today.)_

_Please tell me I didn’t hurt him._

And suddenly he can’t bear it any longer. He throws the covers off the bed and gets up, ties his shoes on, pulls on a jacket.

He runs downstairs and out the back door, grabs his bike from the shed, kicks off, and pedals rapidly down the street.


	10. Chapter 10

_Fredag, 27.1.17, 16:21 _

He knocks quickly on the door of the flat in the dimming light. The sun’s almost set; the sky’s fading from soft, flushed mauve to a dull grey-blue. He hears Eskild trilling, ‘Coming!’

The door swings open, and Eskild’s smiling face appears. The smile falls instantly when he recognises Even.

‘Oh,’ Eskild says, and then nothing else.

‘Hey,’ says Even, trying to stop the tremor in his voice. ‘Um, is Isak home?’

Eskild’s eyes shift sideways.

‘I’m… not…. sure if he wan– I mean, if he’s home,’ he says. ‘So I’ll just…. go…. check.’

He slams the door with a bright jingle on Even’s face.

Finally, he reappears, with Noora beside him, her hair pulled back tightly in a bun. Both of them have their arms crossed. They look like very cute but thoroughly unintimidating bodyguards.

‘We want to know why you want to see him?’ says Eskild, and Noora nods.

‘To say sorry,’ says Even. ‘To talk to him. I know you probably don’t trust me, but I promise I’ve only been trying to do what’s best for him.’

Noora’s face softens.

‘All right,’ she says. ‘He’s in Linn’s room.’

‘ _All right_?’ says Eskild. ‘Noora, are you joking? I don’t trust him an inch right now. Even, you’ll have to do better than that. Prove your integrity to us in some way.’

‘Uh,’ says Even.

‘Ooh, serenade Isak from the garden! Compose a song about your love–’

‘Oh my God, Eskild!’ says Noora. 'Come in,’ she tells Even, shoving Eskild to the side. ‘Isak’s in Linn's room.'

He opens the door to Linn’s room to find Isak leaning against the headboard in the semi-dark, arms wrapped around his knees, watching a movie on his laptop. There’s a flickering lamp in the corner, casting shifting light over the room.

Isak sees Even and instantly lights up, as if Even hasn’t been acting like the world’s worst boyfriend lately. He closes his laptop.

‘Hey,’ says Even, crossing the room, unable to resist reaching out to touch Isak’s cheek. Isak closes his eyes and briefly leans into the touch, then opens his eyes and draws his knees a little closer to his chest.

‘How are you,’ he says, searching Even’s face.

‘Okay,’ says Even. ‘I talked to Jonas.’

‘Yeah,’ says Isak, shrugging. ‘I’m sorry about Jonas, he’s a bit–’

‘He said you’re unhappy,’ says Even, sitting down on the bed so he can look Isak in the eyes. ‘He said you’re not doing well.’

Isak drops his gaze. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you sleeping?’ he says, reaching out to lightly trace the circle under Isak’s right eye. Isak flinches, but lets him.

‘I’m fine.’

‘No, Isak,’ he says. 'I want you to tell me the truth.'

‘You don’t need to deal with that on top of everything else,’ Isak mumbles.

‘I _want_ to,’ says Even. ‘I want to deal with you, don’t you get that? All of you. All of your shit.’

Isak scowls.

‘So, what, it’s fine if you want to deal with my shit, but if I say I want to deal with _yours,_ you tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about? How is that fucking fair?’

Even opens his mouth, then pauses.

‘I’m – I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I'm sorry if you feel like I shut you out. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, it’s just sometimes... I get scared. I don't want to... I know I've been too much for – for other people, sometimes.'

Isak’s eyes instantly soften, and he scrambles closer and wraps his arms around Even.

‘It’s okay,’ he says softly, and kisses Even lightly on the ear. Even hugs him back and clenches his jaw. He’s been in here for less than five minutes, he can’t be ridiculous and start crying.

‘So what if,’ says Isak, pulling out of the hug, ‘we tell each other the truth, right now? Just stop trying to protect each other, or whatever, and just be honest?’

‘Okay,’ says Even. ‘Okay, I can do that.’

‘Okay,’ says Isak, and they smile quietly at each other.

‘Are you sleeping enough?' says Even.

Isak sighs. ‘Not... not that well. But Linn lent me some sleeping pills, so it’s fine.’

‘It’s not fine,’ Even says quietly, and then, very low, reaching out to touch Isak, ‘I’m sorry if it’s to do with me.’

He hadn’t been thinking at all, this past week. Yet again, he'd allowed his self-hatred to convince him that all his worst fears were true. He’d forgotten that his absence could actually be a cause of pain.

He looks at Isak, whose mouth is set. He's trying so hard to be brave, Even thinks and a swirling wave of guilt overwhelms him.

_I didn't ever want to hurt you, not even a little. Why am I so fucking bad at this?_

‘My turn?’ says Isak, sitting up a little straighter.

Even nods.

‘I know what the problem was,’ Isak says quickly. ‘It was me trying to boss you around, wasn’t it? Me trying to tell you to drink less, and stuff. Right?’

‘No,’ says Even. 'That was only a little thing.’

‘But it was a problem,’ Isak insists. ‘Right? So I just wanted to tell you that I'll stop. I’ll stop trying to control you. It’s your body,’ he says quietly. ‘Your choice.’

Even feels unexpectedly light with relief. He hadn't realised it had still been pressing on him, but it feels like a weight off his shoulders to hear that.

'Thank you,' he says.

Isak nods, and ducks his head.

‘If we, um, moved back in together,’ says Even, and Isak's head jerks up, ‘we’d just have to – to lay down some ground rules. Like… maybe try to have scheduled time apart. Not because I don’t want to spend time with you,’ he says quickly. If he could he'd spend every fucking second with him, but he knows that’s parasitic and fucked-up. ‘Just that – it’s probably not healthy.’

‘Okay,’ says Isak hesitantly. ‘And – and we promise to keep telling each other the truth, okay?’

‘Yeah,’ says Even. ‘That sounds good.’

‘Okay,’ says Isak instantly. ‘I promise, I can do all that, just… so – so – um – Linn’s away til Sunday, so you could stay the night, if you wanted.’

‘Yes,’ says Even. And Isak presses his lips together, shudders, and angrily rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, before pulling Even closer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I started work again this week and about ten other things seemed to happen at the same time... I guess that's the way it goes. There might be longer gaps between each update now but they'll keep coming.
> 
> I should add that this chapter is supposed to happen before and after the prologue. (Hopefully the continuity isn't too screwy)
> 
> As always, heaps of love to everyone reading and responding... you are the parallel-universe Isaks to my Even <33333

They spend the next few nights and days touching each other like they can’t get enough, like they’re relapsing drug addicts or something. Even can’t help from constantly reaching out just to make sure Isak’s there, tracing the curves of his ear, or pressing kisses to his eyelashes, or tangling his fingers in Isak’s hair. Isak’s the same. He keeps ambushing Even with kisses as he walks through doorways. They spend almost all of their time having sex, making out, or sleeping: they don’t have much time to talk.

It’s better that way, Even thinks.

He can sense a quiet buzzing underneath everything. He’s trying to ignore it. Sometimes he thinks it’s only him who feels it, but then he’ll turn and catch Isak watching him, eyes troubled, before he quickly looks down. That’s when Even’s unsteady feeling comes back again.

When they’re kissing or undressing each other or reaching out for one another in the morning, the feeling vanishes, and Even can feel like everything’s going to be all right forever.

But in the middle of the night, when it’s dark and quiet, the feeling returns. He’ll watch Isak sleeping, his eyelashes resting dark on his cheek. Listen to the quiet noises he makes sometimes, like he’s trying to talk.

And when he’s alone in the dark, he can’t deny there’s something the matter. There’s this – this anxious carefulness to the way they both speak that wasn’t there before.

It’s sort of like they’ve drawn a chalk circle on the ground around themselves. And they’re both afraid of moving closer to the edge. Afraid of what will happen if they step over it.

Even takes a couple more days off school this week; the principal will probably contact his parents, but he knows he’ll get away with it because of his Mental Issues. He’s still low in energy, lately, still not himself totally. But sometimes he doesn’t really know what “himself” means.

Anyway, the weekend’s coming up. There’s a party at Magnus’ on Saturday, and it’s going to be super fun. They’re going to both get super drunk, and Isak’s always cute and handsy when he’s drunk.

_Lørdag, 4.2.2017, 23.35_

Even lounges on Magnus’ dining table, sipping at a whiskey on the rocks, still not quite able to believe he is able to drink openly without anyone on his back. Isak’s right here, a warm weight on his arm, laughing and talking with Mahdi and Eva.

How long has it been, Even thinks, since he’s actually been able to enjoy himself like this, without any restrictions? That was what drove him so crazy with Sonja. There was this sense always like he was letting her down with everything he did, like every single thing he did he wasn’t good enough. He knows it wasn’t her fault; it was just that she had the most perfect self-control of anyone he’d ever met, whereas Even... didn't.

It’s such a fucking relief, this sense of freedom. He keeps going up to the kitchen to top up his glass like he’s a kid with unlimited access to candy. He comes back after the third or fourth trip to find Isak’s disappeared somewhere, apparently with Eva. He goes out to look for them in the courtyard, but they’re not there.

It’s nice out here, though, nobody around, a little fire pit burning quietly in the corner, the loud music of indoors muffled to a quiet thumping by the doors. He has a joint in his pocket, so he lights it, sits on a deck chair, smoking and looking at the stars.

He realises he’s feeling really excited, full of energy. He kind of just wants to see how far he can go.

After he finishes his cigarette, he goes back and fills his glass up almost to the brim with straight whiskey.

In the back of his mind, he can feel his desire beginning to swell up like a balloon in his chest. He knows this feeling; it’s an old feeling. A feeling like he _needs_ to reach a high, any way he can, to disappear into the embrace of alcohol or weed or whatever else is available, to drown out his mind completely and float totally free.

It usually comes about when things are bad. Which is weird because things have been so good lately. He’s back with Isak; what more could he ask for? This week has been amazing; too good to be true.

Maybe that’s the problem, he thinks, before pushing the thought away with another bitter, sweet sip of whiskey.

He realises, when he’s back in the lounge, that he’s starting to lose track of time. He can’t remember how long he’s been out here, or who he was just talking to, or how he even got to this couch, sitting with these strangers.

He can’t see Isak anywhere. Where is he?

He doesn’t want Isak to see him like this.

 _But what does it matter if he does?_ he tells himself, irritably. Isak’s not in charge of Even. Even can get as wasted as he fucking wants tonight.

There are a lot of things Isak doesn’t know about Even. Isak doesn’t know what a mess Even used to be; how totally pathetic and out of control he was before Sonja fixed him.

_Maybe I should show him how messed up I really am. He deserves to know sometime._

He necks several more gulps  of the bottle of tequila, even though he knows it’s a bad idea, then stumbles into a spare bedroom, lies on his back on the floor.

All he can see when he closes his eyes is Isak; the same bright image of Isak he always sees, gold hair curling around his face, eyes intent and certain, walking towards him on that cursed night. Almost seeming to glow against the dark, like a fucking angel or something. The angel he never did anything to deserve.

‘Even?’

Soft fingers under his chin, in his hair.

‘Even?’

There’s a sharp note of anxiety in Isak’s voice.

‘I’m fine,’ Even slurs quickly. ‘I’m okay, you don’t need to worry, I won’t–’ _I won’t hurt you again, I promise, I promise._ ‘I’m just really wasted.’

There’s a long silence; he can hear Isak swallow. ‘O-okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll bring you some water?’

‘No, go have fun,’ says Even carelessly. ‘I’m gonna sleep.’

‘All right,’ says Isak. Even closes his eyes as he hears him get to his feet.

Even closes his eyes tight. _Think happy thoughts._

_La la – la la._

He feels a blanket being laid over him, hands gently tucking them around him.

‘Even?’ says Isak gently again. He didn’t leave, then. He should hurry up and leave, he doesn’t want to miss the party.

‘Will you tell me what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ says Even, and laughs blurrily.

‘But we – we agreed,’ says Isak, his voice getting stronger. ‘We agreed we’d tell each other things, you said I had to tell you if I was upset, so I want you – I want you to tell me, too. We agreed,’ he says again, like the phrase is a talisman. ‘And I’ve been – I’ve been doing what you asked, I’ve been – I haven’t been getting bossy or anything, right? So…’ he trails off.

Even laughs.

‘You know, I know you always want there to be something fixable, but sometimes there isn’t, Isak. Sometimes you just have to accept I’m a fucked-up person.’

There’s a silence, and then Isak says, ‘I don’t think you’re fucked-up.’

‘Well, get it into your head, then,’ says Even. ‘I am fucked-up.’ He rolls over to turn away from Isak.

‘I’m not leaving you,’ says Isak, and he feels Isak settle down against his back. Which is so fucking stupid.

‘We’re at a party, for fuck’s sake,’ says Even. ‘Don’t sabotage your own fun for me. I don’t want you to do that.’

‘I’m not,’ says Isak stubbornly.

‘Don’t you want to go out and spend time with your friends?’

‘Do you want me to go?’ And there’s a faint wobble in Isak’s voice.

At that moment, the door opens. Even can’t be bothered lifting his head to see who it is.

‘Isak! You have to come! Magnus is about to– ohhh, is he okay?’ he hears a girl’s voice say. He can’t place it straight away.

‘Yeah,’ says Isak.

‘I can bring some water?’ Even looks up. It’s Eva, her lipstick smudged, holding onto the door frame for support.

‘Do you want water?’ Isak asks him. ‘Or something to eat, maybe?’

‘Just go, Isak,’ Even says quietly. _Go have fun at the party. Please don’t stay in here._ Even won’t be able to bear it if he stays.

‘What?’

‘I said,’ he almost shouts, ‘just _go. Just fucking go, please.’_

He sees Eva flinch at the same time as he hears Isak take a sharp breath. He probably won’t really remember this tomorrow morning, which is good, because he doesn’t want to remember that sound.

‘Come on, Isak,’ says Eva gently, and he hears her walk over. ‘Let’s go,’ she says, her voice very close, which must mean she’s bent down to take Isak’s hand and pull him up. Then her voice goes bright and clearly fake:

‘Magnus is trying to eat or drink whatever people tell him to, he’s been cocky because he’s done everything so far but now someone’s just poured him a glass of vinegar. We have to go watch.’

And then the door slams shut behind them, and Even’s alone again.


End file.
